A Noxian Night
by BlackhandCat
Summary: One night. One crazy Noxian night. In a place where only the strong survive, this is a tale of two orphans who struggle to do just that... and in doing so, find their strength within one another. An ongoing series that will focus primarily on Riven x Talon, with cameo appearances by others. Rated T for violence, language and adult situations.
1. Chapter 1

_Don't stop._

Two words echoed silently on her lips with every step the girl took. She chanted them over and over again in her mind, each syllable almost perfectly syncopated against the heavy breathing that had her chest heaving and heart pounding.

_Don't you dare stop…_

The damp, uneven cobblestones paving the corridor slapped against her naked feet with every stride, soles rubbed raw and red from a lifetime spent simply surviving long enough to see another moonless Noxian night. Her fingers too, slender and lithe as they were, now pawed at the walls in an attempt to keep her upright and moving whenever a knee buckled or a loose stone caught her toes. Such was life in this great city-state. Power was all that mattered here and even though under the law all were created equal, some were clearly more equal than others.

_Keep moving Riven. Don't stop._

The girl shot a sidelong glance across her shoulder as she rounded another corner. She could hear the voices behind her growing louder with every passing moment; they were gaining on her now… it would only be a matter of time before they closed in. Suddenly her vision was sent skyward, eyes growing wide as her foot caught on a jagged stone jutting out from the floor. A stifled cry escaped her lips as she hit the ground with an audible thud, silvery-white tresses flailing every which way. For a moment Riven simply lay there unmoving, tasting a mixture of dirt and blood on her lips when she struggled to find her breath once more. Her crimson-flecked eyes fluttered in and out of consciousness as she silently fought back tears of frustration. No, she wasn't going to cry. If this really was the end at least she wasn't going to give those bastards that kind of satisfaction.

"Well, well, well…" The first of her pursuers had already caught up now, hands on his knees while leaning forward to catch his own breath. "Bitch sure can run, can't she?" The jeering had already started. Riven inhaled sharply and clenched her jaw as she pushed herself up to a sitting position, legs drawn in so she could backpedal to the corner. Her ankle was throbbing and a thin line of red had formed across the top where the rock had gashed her under the shin.

"M-more than I can say for you," she spat venomously, apparently finding her courage once more. One lowlife punk had now become three however, each with an equally repulsive sneer plastered across his otherwise unremarkable face. The shadows hid their features in such a way that only three sets of leering teeth were really visible, glinting like hungry wolves in whatever pale light managed to streak through from above. "If it's gold you want… you already know I have none." Slowly her right hand began to search among the rubbish for something – _anything_ – she could use as a weapon.

"Hear that boys?" A fourth figure had appeared behind the others, larger than the rest. Riven's heart sank and she swallowed hard; his face she'd never be able to forget. Eye sockets were sunken in like that of a corpse, pale skin stretched to its limits about a lascivious, toothy grin. His neck (if it still qualified as one) was thicker than her waist, bare upper torso bulky and riddled with jagged, pock-like scars. His name was Arnath, leader of a local street gang and one notoriously cruel bastard. "S'pose this is our lucky day then." The tree trunk of a man pushed his way forward, hand resting on the butt of a rather menacing machete strapped to the front of his belt. "We ain't out for gold tonight." Arnath's tongue snaked out from between his teeth and slid very slowly, very deliberately, across his lower lip.

Riven had suddenly became very aware of their gazes now, their palpable stares sizing her up and down like a piece of meat. Vulnerability had laced its way into her nerves, her cheeks flushing slightly as she drew one arm across her chest to cover the rather obvious tatters in her cotton top. She cursed under her breath as her heavily lidded eyes fell away, searching for something else to latch onto. When she was younger it had been easier. Her boyish features, the short silvery hair and tanned skin, even the way she dressed had allowed her to slip under the radar for the most part. But then puberty struck and curves began to form in places where none had previously existed. Her features had softened so much. They were angular yet feminine now, like her small mouth framed by sparkling eyes. Thick lashes and ruby-like irises… she was nothing if not pretty. An utter magnet for trouble.

"I'm warning you," she whispered hoarsely as her narrowed gaze met the men once more. Riven's slender fingers had found something in the dirt to collapse upon, the rusted end of a large metal rod buried beneath debris. She balled her fist about it. The heaviness of the object felt comforting in her grasp, almost familiar. "Don't come any closer. Or-"

"Or _what_?" Arnath gnashed through clenched teeth before lashing out suddenly, clamping a hand over her mouth and pressing the back of her head into the wall. Riven's vision went blurry for a second, her breath caught midway in her throat. "You thought you could just _leave?_ We took you in. Made you what you are." The man's fingers were like a vise around her face; she could feel his nails digging into her skin, his palm threatening to crush her skull should he hold on any longer. Through a haze of pain Riven shut her eyes and tightened her grip about the rod. And then she swung at him, as hard as she possibly could.

A swing… and a hit.

Arnath howled and recoiled from the sudden strike, relinquishing his grip on her and moving to clutch his own face instead. Riven immediately took to a fit of coughing as she slid back down the wall and crumpled to the floor. "Hot… _damn,_" Arnath cursed as he clutched his ear, blood welling up freely from between his fingers. He cursed again, gritting his teeth and flailing about angrily for a few moments. One of the other gang members began to laugh nervously, to which Arnath responded by punching him square in the gut. "Big mistake," a growl escaped his lips as he glared daggers at Riven's bruised and battered form beneath him. He took his time closing in on her, reaching down to unhook the machete from his belt.

One second he was towering above her, black knife glimmering ominously against the shadowy twilight. And then she blinked, and he was gone. Vanished. Arnath's body had seemingly collapsed in on itself with the most gruesome of bone-shattering crunches, replaced instead by a crouching silhouette that had descended upon them from somewhere above. Still cradling her cheek Riven struggled to focus on the shadowy figure before her.

His boots were the first thing to take shape, heavy black leather with the laces unkempt. A heavy tread had landed squarely atop Arnath's face, flattening it into the cobblestones and leaving behind only a spreading pool of murky blood and ichor in its wake. Riven's gaze lingered there for a few moments, almost too shocked to turn anywhere else, before sweeping up along this newcomer's frame. He wasn't as big as he had seemed at first… tall yes, but perhaps just a bit on the scrawny side. In that full crouch he had landed in though, his torn denim jeans did little to hide the sheer power driving his legs into the pavement. He had, after all, just trampled a man roughly three times his size in one shot. The young man wore a faded purple hoodie drawn up loosely over his head, the fabric casting a shadow over most of his face. His left arm was bent to absorb some of the impact of the landing, palm flush against the floor, while the right was swept back and to the side. Her eyes lingered down this arm's exposed bicep, across the sinews in its forearm… and that was when she would notice it for the first time.

A wicked curved blade, jagged and heavily serrated, blossoming over his wrist like the talon of some deadly bird of prey.


	2. Chapter 2

_Four years earlier..._

"Is this… a joke_?_" The spindle of a man glowered at Riven then took the measly few coins she had pressed into his palm and proceeded to dump them unceremoniously on the floor. "A full day's worth of work... and _this_ was the best you could do?"

Riven kept her eyes anchored to the ground. Even then she could feel the gazes of the other beggar-children turning to view this spectacle unfold before them. "I-I'm sorry," the little girl offered nothing but a barely audible whisper in response. She wouldn't dare raise her head now, lest she risk incurring his wrath any further. No, she had learned through experience – the less said the better.

"You're sorry?" The man angled his head as he stared down at her, the faintest hint of a vicious smirk beginning to work its way into the corners of his lips. Slowly he reached out to caress the girl's hair. "My dear little Riven. 'Sorry' doesn't put food on your plate." He had found several strands of her silvery locks to play with as he spoke, and he did so with a twisting motion of his index finger, spiraling her soft tresses lightly about his digit. "Sorry… won't keep a roof above your head. Nor will it keep you safe from harm." The twisting had become more deliberate, more methodical now. Each subsequent loop of his fingers tangled in her hair elicited a sharper and sharper tug upon her scalp. Riven flinched and bit her lip, nearly drawing a bead of blood. It was all she could do to keep from crying out in pain.

"I said… I was sor- "

"And I told you. Sorry is _not_ enough," he cut the girl's words off in mid-sentence with a slap, using her hair like a leash now to guide her along as he dragged her down the hallway. The other children were captivated now, some with looks of fear plastered across their dirt-caked faces and others with something decidedly more sinister. Such was the power this man had over all of them; eventually they would turn as twisted and cruel as he was. Or so he hoped, anyway. "We are a family here, Riven. We must all do our part to take care of one another. Wouldn't you agree?" He gave her scalp one final tug, forcing her to meet his ominous, expectant stare.

"Yes… sir."

"Then in light of this, you will neither eat – nor sleep – till you have returned with at least double your daily share." The smirk had finally grown to form an evil grin and the man known only as Mr. Nerul, Beggar-Lord of Noxus, relinquished his grip on Riven's tresses, moving instead to gently caress her bruised cheek with an open palm. "Perhaps my dear… we need to make you appear more… sympathetic in the eyes of passersby."

Riven froze, knowing full and well what that meant. A hulking form had appeared beside Mr. Nerul, bare upper torso pockmarked and riddled with scars. _Arnath_. His features were hidden in the shadows and though she knew his face all too well, right now she was far more concerned with the man's fists. Her gaze stayed fixed upon the ridges of his knuckles, watching them crackle as he flexed each finger individually. She was paralyzed with fear – too afraid to even make a sound.

"I think," this monstrosity of a man drawled in a low rumble, "that's a _great_ idea." Slowly Arnath reached out towards the girl, his massive palm casting a shadow of unbroken darkness across her trembling body.

* * *

_Four minutes earlier..._

"What a joke," Talon grumbled under his breath, slender brow narrowing sharply as he worked over his victim's pockets. He was crouching above the corpse of the man he had quite literally defaced only moments ago. All it had taken was a single boot to the head; the other three had turned tail so quickly upon seeing their leader fall in that manner. Who knew death could be such a powerful motivator? The thought nearly brought a devilish smirk of satisfaction to his lips, though a frown persisted after the search for valuables had left him empty-handed. Talon shook his head, exhaling sharply as he rocked back on his heels. "How can somebody so large be so damn poor?"

A stifled cry from somewhere behind brought Talon's attention back to the present. Slowly he cocked his head over one shoulder, amber gaze alighting upon the source of the sound – that young woman the thugs had accosted before he'd decided to drop in. His gaze softened ever so slightly as he looked her over, starting from the crown of her matted silvery tresses and continuing slowly along her dirt-stained temples and cheeks… only to linger again upon reaching those full, parted lips. She had on a tattered cotton blouse, the material flimsy and partly diaphanous so to give the very merest of hints as to what lay underneath. A lacy red ribbon ran just under her breasts and along her shoulder blades, keeping the otherwise ill-fitting garment taut to the curves of her firm tummy and shapely hips.

He watched in silence for a moment as she struggled to regain consciousness, her hooded eyes fluttering about slowly. Even in the pale light streaking through from above he could very clearly see the bruising and scarring on her arms and legs… some old, some new. Ligature marks along her throat and collarbone, blood under her fingernails. Whoever they were, they had given this poor girl hell. And she'd no doubt thrown it right back in their faces.

Riven awoke gingerly at first, the rods and cones in her eyes laboring to make sense of a world dominated by faded pastels and shadowy highlights, phantasms haunting the edges of her senses. She groaned then strained her neck, reaching up to cradle the back of her head where a large, if still inconspicuous bump was beginning to form at the base of her skull. She winced when her fingers drubbed against it. The fresh bruise was still quite tender to the touch.

"Sleeping beauty awakens."

A voice from somewhere above snapped her into full consciousness. Instinctively she responded by snatching up the rusted metal rod that lay next to her and bringing it to full bear, brow narrowing as the shadows finally congealed before her. "Stay back!" Her voice was raspy when she spoke again, parched lips betraying the clearly evident thirst and hunger plaguing her.

Talon's devilish smirk remained unchanged, his hoodie still drawn up about his head in such a way that only the smile was really visible to the young woman. A few strands of chocolate-brown hair had fallen out of place now, resting lightly across the bridge of his nose as he cocked his head off to the side. "You're welcome." His tone was low and even, almost playful really, in a derisive sort of way. He wheeled about slowly, motioning with his chin to the massive body lying behind him in the gutter. Riven froze, her makeshift weapon very nearly falling from her grasp. That was Arnath's body. Realization bubbled to the surface now as she recalled the chase, the confrontation in the alleyway and finally the shadowy figure descending from above. Her gaze darted about furtively for a moment as this new flood of memories rushed to fill her mind's eye. She regained her composure however, when her eyes had caught sight of something familiar, the last thing she could remember seeing before passing out: that wicked talon-like blade. At the moment it was slung low across the man's hips and lower back like a hextech revolver, ready to be drawn and deployed at a moment's notice.

"I... I didn't ask for your help," Riven whispered through pursed lips as her sullen gaze turned away from the man who had in all likelihood just saved her life, loath as she was to admit it. "I was fine."

"Clearly."

The young woman scowled at his response, blushing lightly as the tension in her frame gradually faded away. The rusted pipe slipped from her fingers altogether to clatter against the cobblestones with a muffled clang as she took in her surroundings more steadily now. "Where… are the others?" She brought her gaze up intending to meet his, though her blush only deepened and she settled instead with focusing on his chiseled jawline.

"You mean the smart ones?" Talon snickered, exhaling as he saddled the woman once more with those piercing eyes of his. "They bolted the instant I took _this_ one out. Never seen grown men run so fast." He shook his head almost ruefully. "What's that saying? Kill the head and the tail will die?"

"The body will die," Riven corrected him as her eyes slipped to the wayside once more. She was now hugging her chest with both arms, fingertips tracing lightly across the outer edges of her shoulders. Why the hell was she feeling so self-conscious all of a sudden?

"Whatever. Anyway, you should probably leave before they come looking for you again." Talon rose to his full height for the first time, interlacing his fingers above his head before reaching out with a low, lazy stretch of his arms. "I don't know what you did to piss them off, but they seemed none to pleas-"

"I did nothing!" Riven interjected quite suddenly, the ferocity of her statement matched only by the intensity of her aura. The fire subsided as quickly as it had come however, and slowly she looked away, her voice once more nothing but a sullen whisper. "They believe me to be their property."

"Are you?"

"What? No!" She looked up at him incredulously. Her temper had been stoked again, like the burning embers of a fast-ebbing cigarette. Riven had finally met him face to face for the first time now - bright crimson eyes locking heavily with his simmering amber ones. "I mean… I-I suppose… in a sense. They took me in when I was younger; gave me a place to stay. But… they used me. They used… all of us." Something about this man made her feel so damned unsure of herself. Those eyes were like twin suns, amber pools of radiance with no other function than to boil away her façade of strength and reveal the awful truths hidden underneath. Indeed, five minutes and she had already begun to share more about herself with him than with any other in her entire life.

"Look at me." Talon glared down at the woman, his lips curving into a bit of a frown. Riven scowled as well, not wanting to comply at first though slowly she exhaled in resignation, chest heaving out as she brought her gaze to meet with his once more.

"You belong to no one but yourself." His words were terse, each syllable as equally crisp and succinct as the rest. Gone was the seemingly mocking playfulness, the teasing nature in an otherwise low and icy tone. "Don't ever let them take that from you. Now go."

For the longest time Riven simply glared back at him, unable to respond, let alone blink. Those beautiful eyes of hers wavered ever so slightly, reflections of her inner turmoil painted in scarlet and orange watercolors. Without so much as a word they spoke volumes of the unsaid emotion she now fought to keep so heavily in check. "I… I'd love to. Believe me," she responded finally, a flush of rosiness clouding her cheeks once more. Slowly she glanced towards her outstretched leg, motioning with her chin to the rather deep gash running the length of her ankle and shin.

Talon blinked once, then twice. His brow furrowed as he cursed softly under his breath, bringing a hand up to idly scratch the back of his head. She wasn't going to be running anywhere with an injury like that. At the very least, it would require a cleaning and thorough dressing. He sighed, folding his arms loosely across his chest. Compassion was not a virtue he put any amount of faith in. If growing up in the catacombs of Noxus had taught him anything it was this: kindness was nothing but a weakness.

_And yet…_

And yet for some reason he knew that if he were to turn his back on this girl… if he were to just leave her to an unknown fate, he would probably never be able to look himself in the mirror again.

"Give me your hand." He had broken the silence finally with four whispered words carrying with them the weight of a hundred stones. Riven froze for a moment before looking up at him slowly; she saw, for the first time, his whole face. Talon had let the hoodie slip to his shoulders now, revealing to her his features. Angular, chiseled cheekbones framed by tangled locks the color of a scarab's wings. His ears poked out from between the matted strands, each pierced and set with small jet studs that caught the light every now and again. A thin, barely perceptible scar ran above his left eye, bisecting one eyebrow and continuing down to about mid cheek.

"Your hand," he said again, breaking her bout of reverie and bringing a fresh batch of color to her cheeks. Slowly he extended his own arm out to her, fingers spread and palm facing up. "I'll help you."

* * *

_Author's Notes: I'd just like to give a quick thank you to all the people who are reading this story, especially those that liked and commented on it. Thanks for your support, and here's hoping you'll all enjoy what I have in store._


	3. Chapter 3

Talon furrowed his brow, cheeks tinged with the slightest hints of red. This was definitely _not_ how he'd been expecting to spend this night, running through the meandering alleyways of Noxus with an injured girl he hardly knew draped over his back. Her arms were wrapped around his collarbone like a vise, the point of her chin digging squarely into the base of his neck. And then there was the _really_ uncomfortable stuff... Riven's breasts were pressed firmly against his back. That flimsy cotton top she wore did little to dampen all the interesting sensations as the pair careened through the streets. And after several minutes of fumbling, Talon's hands had _yet_ to find a proper place to hold onto her from underneath.

"This… is…. embarrassing," Riven mumbled as she buried her face against the hem of his hoodie, her silvery bangs flailing wildly with every step they took.

"Would you rather I sling you over my shoulder?" came his blunt response, their breaths now visible as effervescing clouds of steam. There was silence for a moment, the only sound coming from the soles of Talon's steel-tipped boots as they kicked up loose gravel along the wet and uneven pavement. Riven sighed sharply in resignation, pressing her cheek into his soft brown hair. The rain had been drizzling down upon their heads for a few minutes now, but even then his body seemed to remain impossibly warm against hers.

"Why are you helping me?" she whispered, her voice once again low and subdued. "You… don't even know my name."

Talon's hawk-like gaze darted off to the left as they passed another alley, the young man remaining ever vigilant and on the defensive. "You never offered it." He had blatantly skirted her first question, mostly because he had no answer for it himself either. Helping this girl went against everything his instincts and experiences had taught him to do. Why then… when it came to her was he acting so blindly?

"It's Riven."

Talon paused in mid-thought, repeating her name silently and letting the delicate syllables echo in his mind's eye. It was a pretty name, despite the actual meaning of the word. _To be torn apart; sundered._

"And I suppose you want to kno-"

"Talon," she interjected, her heavily lidded eyes shutting as they rounded another corner. The pair had reached a dead end, the only exit a rather inconspicuous red door on the far wall. "That's your name isn't it? You're the one they all talk about… the cold-blooded killer."

The young man remained silent as he sauntered up to the door rather gingerly now, considering the breakneck pace he had been keeping only moments ago. He hunched down slightly, letting Riven slide back down to her own feet. "Does that frighten you?" His searing golden gaze turned to look back at her, a thin smirk forming just below it on his lips. Talon's shadowy aura was almost palpable now, an enigmatic presence that positively screamed of danger and, worse yet, intrigue.

Riven in turn stared back at him for the longest time, unmoving save for the subtle rise and fall of her chest against her wet cotton blouse. And then she simply shook her head.

"No."

Three solid kicks and the door quickly caved in, its lock tearing through the wooden frame as it swung inwards and ricocheted against the hinges. The room was dimly lit and Riven's vision struggled to make sense of it at first, her pupils dilating slowly as she peered in over Talon's shoulder. It was a large storeroom of some kind with barrels, crates and other vague shadowy objects strewn about the floor. Rows of shelves lined the walls, seeming to stretch endlessly into the darkness. Indeed, the only light seemed to be coming from beyond the borders of another doorway at the end of a short corridor. It was a mesmerizing glow if there ever was one; the warm golden light shone through in intermittent streaks from gaps between the door and its frame. Noises were wafting through too. A sonorous clamor of murmured whispers and… was that laughter? Riven narrowed her delicate brow, eyes closing slowly as she began to focus on the sounds alone. She could hear voices, some loud and some soft. So many voices… and buried beneath that wall of din was something else. A steady pulse; a beat.

_Music?_

"Have a seat." Talon's voice startled her, the girl's eyes flickering open as she snapped back to reality. Slowly she turned to face him, but not before allowing her gaze to linger on the doorway for a few moments longer.

Talon was standing next to a pile of opened boxes with a stoppered flask in one hand and a roll of cloth bandages coiled in the other. Riven smiled softly at him – the first time she had done so all evening – and then slowly proceeded to place herself atop a nearby wooden crate, smoothing out the creases in her frayed cut-offs as she did so. "What is this place?" she asked him in a low whisper, her attention once again returning to the ominous doorway and the light spilling through.

Talon simply smirked in response, taking a knee and instead moving to gently grasp her injured leg by the ball of her foot. "Let's take a look at this first, shall we?" His fingertips slid along her calf as he spoke, the sensation not unlike warm raindrops rolling down her bare skin. The mere thought alone caused Riven to blush rather furiously. She first glanced down at him taking his sweet time examining her, then up at the ceiling and finally back again to the far wall, thoroughly flustered now.

"H-how bad is it?"

"Well, it's pretty deep. But fortunately…" He looked up at her finally with a devilish smirk, his hand moving to brush away a few stray strands of chocolate-brown from his eye line. "You'll live."

Riven glared at him, her vigor slowly returning as she fought the urge to violently flick his forehead. "Just brilliant, _doctor_."

Talon stifled a snicker before moving to pick up the long-necked flask he'd set aside earlier. Zaunite vodka, 100 proof. A foul concoction but it would definitely get the job done. "We'll need to disinfect it though," he raised the glass bottle to his lips, unworking the cork with his teeth then spitting it out on the floor. "This is going to burn a little," Talon said in a low tone as he raised his amber eyes to hers, holding her gaze captive once more.

She exhaled softly, nodding. "It's… fine. I'm used to it." Talon quirked his brow as he contemplated her ominous response, then slowly readjusted her leg over his thigh.

He was right though. It did burn, quite viciously in fact.

Riven tensed up as the volatile liquid cascaded down her shin, swallowing a string of curses into the back of her throat. Her fingers curled against the crate she was sitting atop of and her nails dug sharply into its lid. But that was it. She never cried out, nor did her gaze ever leave his. Talon was rather impressed actually; this seemingly frail young thing was much stronger than she looked. "Almost… done." The dark-haired man went about dressing the wound, gently wrapping her leg up with bandages before rising to his full height again. "Well?" His normally icy expression softened ever so slightly, head cocking to the side.

Riven ran a hand almost absentmindedly through her damp locks before attempting to stand, faltering just a _tad _when she placed her full weight down on her heel. She bit her lip softly; it was painful but not overly so. She'd been through far worse after all. "Thank you," the young woman looked away after a long pause, the words sounding as foreign to her as they did to him.

"It's fine. Just… be careful now." Talon glanced away as well, one hand coming up to idly scratch the back of his head. This was new territory for him. "Anyway, stay put for a second. I'll find us something to eat." And with that the assassin-turned-medic vanished once more into the shadows of the storeroom.

She was alone again.

For the longest time Riven simply sat there in viscous darkness with nothing but the constant pitter-patter of rain to keep her senses preoccupied. The girl sighed heavily, placing both bare feet up on the smooth crate lid and moving to corral her knees with her slender arms. She was exhausted, not just with tonight but with the entire ordeal of her so-called life up to this point. She couldn't have been much older than nine or ten when Mr. Nerul and his gang had found her on the streets hungry, alone and cold. Not unlike tonight, she mused with a bit of a sardonic smile. In five years they'd taught her almost everything she knew – how to steal, how to panhandle, simply how to survive a Noxian night. But they'd taken so much from her in return. Far too much in fact. Her only regret now was not having the strength to run away sooner.

Once more, Riven slowly turned her scarlet gaze towards the glowing doorway, letting her cheek rest against the top of her knee. "And of all the people to come to my rescue," she mused out loud to no one in particular, heart beating rapidly against her outer thigh, "it had to be…"

_Talon._

Before today, just hearing that name would have been more than enough to send a chill down her spine. There were so many stories after all, exaggerated and otherwise. Tales of a shadowy wraith prowling the streets of Noxus after dark. Tales of how any who dared confront him would end up facedown in the moat, throat slit and exsanguinated.

_And yet…_

Slowly Riven pushed off from the crate, her gaze still fixed upon the closed door and that warm fusillade of golden light streaking outwards from it. She was captivated now, transfixed by the glow and the sounds emanating from beyond the threshold. Slowly she moved down the corridor, her bare feet leaving wet prints on the cold stone tiles with every step. Closer and closer she moved, till her lithe fingers had taken hold of the brass doorknob.

She turned it slowly; the light grew and the darkness faded away.

* * *

_Author's Notes: You -knew- she wasn't going to stay put, right?_


	4. Chapter 4

"Lady luck's smilin' tonight." The gambler grinned under his wide-brimmed cavalry hat. The smoldering embers at the lit end of his cigarette pulsed with life each time he drew in a breath. After a few lingering moments a cloud of smoke escaped from his nostrils and the man reached up to pluck the roll from his lips, allowing his fingers to drag along the underside of his scruffy chin as he did so. "Mostly new faces at the tables."

He popped the cigarette back in place and brought his gaze up to bear, a pair of lucent orbs to scan the perimeter of the club from his vantage point at the bar. The _Blade and Bunny_ was one of the largest and most successful nightclubs to open up within the city walls of Noxus in recent years. It was a decadent establishment where elegance and debauchery happily coexisted with one another hand in hand. The drinks were stiff, the music loud and the ladies scantily clad.

In other words, home sweet home… for a scoundrel like Twisted Fate.

"Just… stick to the script this time," the man sitting next to him chimed in between swigs from a lowball glass of whisky. He was larger and considerably more grizzled in appearance than Fate, his eyes shielded from the dancing lights beneath a pair of fashionable black sunglasses. His facial hair was thick and well-groomed with only a few traces of gray to betray his true age. "If it's all the same to you I'd like to avoid a repeat of what happened in Zaun last night."

Fate snickered at his partner's words, reaching down to grab his own half-empty glass by the rim and stir its cloudy contents with his pinky. His other hand had been toying with a single gold piece for the past few minutes now. Like clockwork he walked the coin along the back of his knuckles, using his thumb to pass it back up each time it reached the end of his fingers. "Well shit, Malcolm. You're just a regular ray of sunshine." The coin landed on the counter finally and Fate slammed his palm across it. "Relax old-timer, we got this." He corralled his glass to his lips now, letting the cool liquid blaze a trail of fire and ice down his gut. "No sweat."

"Famous last words…" Graves muttered as he glowered beneath his shades, knocking back the last of his whisky in one go. Only a half-melted ice cube remained to clink against the sides of his glass when he plopped it back down on the bar. He drew in a deep breath, his ribcage expanding slowly before letting the air seep out from between grit teeth. _Arrogance._ That was his partner's weakness. Sure, he was an absolute shark when it came to any game of chance, truly one of the shiftiest individuals he'd ever had the pleasure of running with. But damn it all if Fate wasn't one self-conceited son of a bitch. Only a matter of time before that pride of his came back to bite the both of them in the ass.

Out of the corner of his eye Graves spotted a raven-haired vision of elegance approaching them, her skin pale like ivory and flawless save for the crow's feet marring the edges of her eyes. It was as if her curves had never seen a ray of sunlight in their natural existence, curves that were currently bathed in the darkest and finest of Shurima silks. Indeed the garment was so slinky it seemed to curve inwards along her navel as she glided towards them.

And then there were those eyes.

Graves stiffened at her approach, brow furrowing beneath his sunglasses. Those viper-like eyes told him everything he needed to know about this woman and where her interests lay. They called her the Duchess and she was the sole proprietor of the _Blade and Bunny_. A shrewd and ruthlessly cunning businesswoman.

Graves trusted her just about as far as he could throw her.

"Well, well… what a lovely surprise indeed," the woman bowed her head as she leaned in, taking Fate's arm by the elbow with her long, painted fingernails. Her voice had a certain huskiness about it – a sign of maturity that, unlike her appearance, was a bit more difficult to conceal. "Welcome back, gentlemen. What brings you to Noxus?"

Fate shot her a wry smirk as he reached up to casually tip the front of his hat. "Evenin' Duchess." He glanced over to the packed card tables on the opposite side of the room, focusing on the ones sectioned off by saffron ropes and curtains. _The high limit tables_. A grin creased the edges of his thin lips. "Place looks mighty busy tonight. We're fixin' to get in on some of the action."

"But of course," the woman tittered as she led them gently from the bar, her gaze locking on to a pair of hostesses not far from them. For _just_ a moment her relaxed demeanor bubbled away and those lupine eyes narrowed wickedly as she motioned for the two women to approach. The moment passed as quickly as it had come however, and her seemingly amiable nature returned once more. "Girls, please make sure our guests are well taken care of. See to their needs."

"Yes, Duchess," came the bubbly and eerily synchronized response from the pair, each girl clad in a lace animal-print garment that left very little to the imagination. Satisfied, the Duchess slipped away as the ladies took their places on either side of the men. The one on Fate's left, a perky blonde, giggled softly as she intertwined her arm with his. "May I check in your belongings first? Your coat and hat."

Twisted Fate winked as he snaked a palm to the back of each girl's waist, grinning devilishly from ear to ear. He was in his element now. "Ladies please," the card master cooed in a charming scarlet drawl.

"_Nobody_ touches the hat."

* * *

Riven stood in the doorway, wide-eyed and awestruck.

She had stumbled upon another world altogether it seemed, a pleasure palace tucked away in some hidden crevice of the city's seedy underbelly. Gambling tables of all kinds littered the hall, with elegant corridors and dimly lit pathways breaking off from the main walkway to lead deeper still into the belly of the beast. The walls were lined with veiled-off areas for lounging, darkness enveloping any occupants and whatever activities were taking place amongst them. Only the occasional plume of smoke from a lit shisha or a bare leg writhing against a throw pillow indicated that the shadows of these private booths were alive. That droning, hypnotic music she'd heard earlier seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once, little more than a rhythmic whisper on whistling winds. Riven swallowed hard; her cheeks were flushed, not from embarrassment but from the heat. It was a raw and unabated warmth, swirling about her and forcing fresh beads of sweat to trickle down her spine.

Leaving the relative safety of the doorway Riven padded slowly down the corridor. There was a bar at the end of this hallway, long and semicircular with warm yellow lights flickering underneath each shelf of alcohol. A bunny-eared hostess was standing behind the counter and tending to the smattering of customers seated across from her. She was wrapped head to toe in sleek leather, accentuating every voluptuous curve of her body when she moved to pour a round of shots along the counter. Riven couldn't help but stare at her, full lips parting into a tiny smile at the sight. The whole outfit was actually kind of… cute.

Riven's smile quickly faded however when a few of the customers sitting at the bar turned around to face her. She froze dead in her tracks, her heart nearly skipping a beat.

Those were Mr. Nerul's men.

On instinct she bolted into a nearby corridor, flattening herself up against the wall. Her heart took another plunge into the pit of her stomach, adrenaline coursing steadily through her veins. Had they seen her? Slowly she inched towards the corner and peered back over to the bar. Didn't seem like it. She recognized their faces; they were low-level goons, muscle in Mr. Nerul's operation, but goons nonetheless. She had to get out of here fast.

"Just _what _do you think you're doing?" An icy feminine voice snapped Riven out of her panic-stricken preoccupation. She wheeled about on her heels, this time coming face to face with a pair of ample, silk-covered breasts. Slowly she craned her neck skyward till her crimson-flecked eyes had found this imposing figure's face.

The Duchess was glaring back down at her and she seemed anything but pleased.

"You're late." The Duchess folded her arms along her hips, head cocking to the side slightly as she glared daggers at the silver-haired young woman standing meekly before her. She couldn't seem to recall this girl's name for some reason, but with so many employees in her charge that was to be expected. Still, this mousy little thing had a certain charm about her. Of that there was little uncertainty. Customers always loved the pretty ones too. Nubile innocence was such a scarce commodity in Noxus these days.

"Where is your uniform?"

For a moment Riven could only stare blankly up at the woman. Her lips parted to offer an answer and yet no sound came out. Instead she found herself unconsciously pressing her back to the wall again, fingers flexing against the striped velvety material lining it. "M-my uniform?" She managed to murmur, unsure how else to respond.

"Your work attire dear," the Duchess whispered in a husky, surprisingly guttural tone. She leaned in to close the gap between them once more, reaching out with her long fingernails to brush a few stray silver strands from Riven's face. "You know. That thing I _pay_ you to wear?"

"Oh." For a moment Riven's gaze shifted back to the bar. "Well actually I…" she paused in mid sentence, mulling her next choice of words. Riven didn't work at the club, but by the look of things she wouldn't be able to just pass herself off as a patron either. This wasn't going to end well…

"Enough dawdling," the Duchess snapped, not bothering to wait for the rest of her reply. Instead she simply snatched up the girl by her elbow and proceeded to tug her down the hallway. "Now is _not_ the time for excuses. We're far too busy tonight." Her lupine eyes narrowed sharply at the corners as she shot a glance over her shoulder. "Come and get dressed."

Riven sighed in exasperation as the woman dragged her along, further and further away from the lights and sounds, away from the safety of the storeroom that Talon had left her in.

_Talon._

Her lip began to quiver but she silenced it with a bite. Riven wondered where he was right now.

* * *

Talon sneezed. Slowly he wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve before taking another bite from a lightly bruised apple he'd found in a nearby wooden crate. The place was remarkably devoid of anything edible other than booze and a wide assortment of nuts. Figures. It was a club first and foremost, after all. The real food was probably stashed somewhere in the kitchen. He rubbed his temples, sighing as he slipped back through the darkness towards where he had left the girl. _Riven._ Her name echoed silently on his lips. _Riven._ She was… well, he wasn't quite sure _what_ she was to him. Something about her just made him feel different. Like he wasn't himself.

"Well, there wasn't much. Some bread. An apple. Kind of pathetic really," Talon sighed as he ducked into the shadowy storeroom. "I suppose beggars can't be choosers, right?" Talon took another bite from the apple as he turned to face the crate Riven had been sitting on. He stopped chewing midway through.

Of course she wouldn't stay put.


	5. Chapter 5

"I…"

Speechless, Riven stumbled towards the wall, unable to do anything but stare at her own reflection in the full-length mirror. The strapless leather corset she wore seemed to cling to her body like a second skin, a river of oil bathing every subtle curve and angle in glossy satin black. The low-cut garment traced a plunging heart shape against the valley of her breasts while drawing inwards into a daring, cheeky 'V' along her bottom. There was even a fluffy cottontail sitting just above her rear cleft. And where the leather ended sheer fishnet stockings stretched out along her thighs and calves, all the way down to a pair of shiny six-inch stiletto heels.

"I look…"

She reached up with tentative fingers to first caress the collar cinched around her throat and then the floppy rabbit ears perched atop her head, perhaps to convince herself that the reflection she saw in the mirror was indeed her own. By contrast her skin seemed so pale against the dark leather hugging it, like chocolate syrup drizzled over almond and vanilla. A smidgen of make-up had been dabbled here and there – rouge on her cheekbones, winged eyeliner and a peachy lip-gloss. She sighed, eyes fluttering as she blinked back a torrent of emotion. For the first time in her life, she actually felt… really, really…

"Pretty," the Duchess chimed in as she folded her arms across her chest. The older woman's reflection appeared behind Riven in the mirror, a smug look plastered across her otherwise lupine features. "Amazing what a little bit of _effort_ can accomplish, hmm?" The Duchess reached out to corral the girl by her chin, though Riven fought to keep her vision on the reflection in the mirror for a few moments longer. "Now then. I believe you're ready."

"Ready?" Riven mouthed the word as her crimson-flecked gaze turned up, slender eyebrows rising just a bit. A knee almost buckled as she shifted her weight to face the taller woman. The breath-ebbing constriction of the corset and choker she could deal with, but the heels… the heels were another story altogether. Her legs trembled with every movement, even the slightest shift on the balls of her feet shooting achy tremors up her calves. This would take some getting used to.

"By _gods,_ you're a dense one dear. Is this your first day?_" _The Duchess growled with a deliberate lilt of levity laced into each syllable. She grabbed Riven by her satin collar and proceeded to half-tug/half-fling her towards the exit, little more than a few black curtains separating the microcosm that was the dressing room from the outside world. "You're ready… to _work_."

* * *

_(Author's note: Play the song 'Angel' by Massive Attack when you read the following part. You'll thank me later.)_

"Gentlemen, the game is no-limit hold 'em," the perky bunny hostess cooed softly as she shuffled the cards in one hand and then dealt them out face down. "Blinds are set, one hundred gold." The woman smiled as she reached up to brush a few stray strands of blonde from her temples. For just a moment though her gaze seemed to shift to the man seated directly next to her at the table – Malcolm Graves.

To his credit, Graves kept his own gaze fixed on his cards, the alchemical lights from above flickering in the reflection of his dark sunglasses._ Two of clubs, seven of hearts. Unsuited._ This was it then; this was the signal. They'd stacked the cards for this very round – paid off the blonde bunny-dealer beforehand and smuggled in a cold deck with the cards prearranged in a _very _precise order. Graves glanced up slowly, chewing on the end of his cigar as he surveyed the other players with a grim, veiled stare. His partner Fate had pocket queens, a strong hand – the winning one for this round, obviously – but not the best at the table _just_ yet. Seated next to him would be the jack ten of spades suited, then king jack unsuited and finally, pocket aces. All absolutely monstrous starting hands. The plan was to get each mark to commit heavily to this pot, enticing them just enough with the right cards. Graves would fold of course; they only needed one winning hand to empty the other gamblers' coffers. Still, something wasn't sitting quite right with him. The man at the far end of the table, the one with pocket aces… he seemed… familiar for some reason. That wild, unkempt mop of hair… a long, penciled moustache. Where had Graves seen his face before?

"I raise." Twisted Fate shot a wry grin from beneath his gold-trimmed cavalry hat, causing Graves to cough involuntarily into the palm of his hand. Raise? What the _fuck_ was he doing? The plan was to simply call before the flop. Was Fate trying to get them to go all in this early? If the other players felt like they were being railroaded into a hand, things could get ugly.

"Nine of spades, queen of hearts, ace of spades," the dealer intoned as she dealt out the face-up community cards across the velvet table. All the players had flopped something strong. Even an unseasoned bystander would have been able to sense the sudden tension mounting in the room. Twisted Fate's grin collapsed into a smirk.

"I raise, six hundred gold."

Graves grit his teeth as Fate pushed the pot further and further. He was supposed to be slow playing it, letting the marks _think_ they were making the decision to bet into this hand on their own. Just stick to the plan, you _greedy_ son of a…

"Two of spades."

The turn was down, giving one mark a straight and the other a flush. Twisted Fate rolled his neck to the left first and then to his right, inhaling deeply as each vertebrae elongated itself with a satisfying crick. He had three queens, statistically behind in the hand, but he already knew where this was going. "I'm all in."

Silence for a moment, but the marks eventually called and all players turned their cards face up now. Graves still had his eyes fixed on the man across the table though. He _knew _who he was; his name was dancing on the tip of his tongue. He was the brother of a famous Noxian lieutenant, but he had recently dropped out of the military to pursue a career as an executioner. Apparently he was pretty damn good at it too. A flamboyant, self-absorbed psychopath, dangerous and unpredictable. His name was…

_Draven._

The final card touched the table, a seven of spades. Just as planned, Twisted Fate had hit a nut flush on the river, clearing out all the other players in one fell swoop. "Well, how bout that," the gambler's pearly white grin had spread from ear to ear. "How mighty generous of y'all." Fate whistled as he leaned in to scoop up the massive stack of chips piled in the center of the table.

"Hold it." Draven cocked his head towards Fate, a lopsided grin of his own plastered across his hardened features. Slowly the man's right hand came up from beneath the table to reveal a very _large_ knife balanced precariously between the pads of his fingers. "Draven… smells a rat." Graves stifled a sigh, his brow narrowing as he leaned back in his chair to reach for his own dagger tucked away underneath his belt. They'd been had; things were about to get _really_ ugly _really_ fast.

* * *

A pair of floppy white bunny ears parted the curtains first, followed timidly by silver locks and a pair of wavering scarlet eyes. Riven peeked out like a little mouse, each hand clutching the thick black curtains in a nervous death-grip. No sign of Mr. Nerul's men yet. She let out a weighty sigh, the corset squeezing her ribs as she exhaled. All she had to do now was make it back to the storeroom unnoticed. Easier said than done perhaps, especially considering a) she had no idea where she was, and b) she was dressed like a centerfold pin-up. The club was far larger than it seemed, having been built directly into the mazelike catacombs that made up much of the older districts of Noxus. Riven had heard so many stories about the city's network of tunnels when she was younger – tales of overly adventurous little children who would venture too far in, never to return or be heard from ever again. That was the least of her worries though. In fact, right now a vanishing act might have been just what she needed.

Slowly Riven parted the curtains with a single tentative step. Her stiletto heel clacked against the stone floor once, wobbling just a bit as she struggled to keep the point grounded. She glanced around for a second, trying to imagine what she looked like in the eyes of passersby; what a sight she must have been with only a single silky thigh visible from between the drapes. The thought alone brought a fresh swath of color to her cheeks.

_Ok, here we go._

Riven shut her eyes tight and held her breath, doing her best to calm her jittery nerves. The first few steps were undoubtedly the most difficult, each clack of her heels followed by an awkward bobble from one side to the other. Gradually though, her natural agility seemed to kick in and Riven settled into a comfortable strut. Left foot first then right, hips swaying rather seductively from side to side. Her fluffy cottontail bounced with every step

_Just… act like you belong._

She kept her eyes fixed forward as she scooped up a serving tray with several bottles on it, doing her best to ignore any attention her round little backside was receiving from the patrons she passed by. She could feel the tight leather bunching up in all the wrong places now, her hurried pace doing interesting things to the fitment of her uniform. Her heartbeat was racing, whether from fear or from excitement she wasn't quite sure any more.

"Hey doll!" A surly, deep voice called out from somewhere behind her, but Riven paid it no heed, accelerating her pace instead. She could see the dance floor up ahead now. The storeroom had to be close by…

"Hey!"

This time a calloused hand clamped around her wrist. Riven was yanked to a standstill, the tray nearly falling from her grasp. She stifled a cry of frustration as she was forcibly wheeled about to face the owner of the voice. "What?" She snapped at first, only for her words to get caught in the back of her throat. Riven froze, her leather and lace-clad frame tensing up as she locked eyes with her captor. She knew this man and he knew her. He was a lieutenant in Mr. Nerul's operation, one of the thugs she had seen earlier at the bar.

"Our drinks, doll." The burly oaf leered at her before motioning with his chin to the bottles on her serving tray. He stooped down to pluck one off of the platter with his apelike hand, the other still clamped tightly around her forearm. She could feel his breath against her cheek as he leaned in – warm and fetid – absolutely reeking of liquor. "What's the rush, huh?" He grinned at her, his smile missing several teeth. "Stay. Sit with us for a bit."

Riven flinched, pulling her hand back in a futile attempt to escape his hold. The other goons were lounging about the booth in various states of disarray, obviously quite inebriated from a long night of boozing. Had none of them recognized her yet? "I-I'd rather not." She looked away, the sensation of her heart pounding against the inside of her ribs growing stronger and stronger with every passing moment. "I'm… actually a little busy tonight, so if you don't mind…" She tried to pull away again, but his grip remained firm.

"Hmm…" the man tugged her closer still, taking another healthy swig from the liquor bottle. "Y'know something… you look… _mighty_ familiar."

One of the other men on the couch happened to make fleeting eye contact with Riven. He squinted at her in a vague, drunken stupor and for a moment she could almost see the rusty gears of recognition churning beneath his otherwise vacant skull. "Say boss…" he lifted a bony finger to point it straight at Riven. His words were heavy and slurred, barely intelligible really, but that didn't matter one bit. If he were to so much as mention her name out loud, she wasn't getting out of here alive.

"Boss… isn't that… Riv-"

He wouldn't get to finish the sentence. A thunderous clamor stalled his train of thought and the drunken goon turned his head just in time to see a body come flying his way, bowling him over like a ragdoll. Wide-eyed and speechless, both Riven and the thug holding her captive shot glances over to the nearby gambling tables where the flailing body had sailed in from. A massive brawl had broken out there, with two men at the center of it all – one in a cowboy hat and the other with a fancy pair of sunglasses. The fight had spilled quickly onto the main floor.

This was her chance.

Riven's grip on the edge of the serving tray tightened and her leg coiled up like a cobra preparing to strike. The girl grit her teeth and with a single high-pitched cry of pent-up fear and anger she lashed out, driving her stiletto heel squarely into her captor's toes. The tray slammed into the back of his head a split second later and with his iron grip faltering, Riven ripped her hand free and made a break for it. Her heart was pounding, the aching muscles in her legs screaming bloody mirror as fresh blood forced them into action. She could hear a string of curses erupt behind her.

"Get her! Get that bitch! It's Riven!"

Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, born not of sadness but frustration. She was so tired… tired of running, tired of fighting and always losing. She wished she were stronger, for in Noxus only the strong survived. She wished she weren't alone…

For a moment everything seemed to move in slow motion. Riven was running so hard that the point of her heel snagged on a divot in the floor. Her leg buckled as the shoe snapped. She could feel herself falling forward once more, her balance broken. With silvery tresses flailing every which way Riven shut her blurry eyes as the ground came rushing up to embrace her.

But then something odd happened; the floor never came. Instead she could feel herself being hoisted skyward as a dull pressure built up along her hips and navel. Someone had caught her.

"There you are," a low voice called out to her from above, the vibrations tickling her earlobe. The familiar tone chipped away at her fear and sent a lovely chill down her spine. "Next time, I'm keeping you on a leash." Slowly Riven opened her eyes, and with tears still staining her cheeks, she looked up to see Talon with his arm wrapped firmly around her waist.


	6. Chapter 6

"I-I… think… you can put me down now," Riven mumbled softly, her arms dangling along the back of Talon's cloak. Talon had been running without pause for the past few minutes now, with Riven slung over his left shoulder. A blushing little duffle bag she was; both her floppy ears and bunny-tailed bottom bounced with every step he took, much to her added chagrin. The club and all of its denizens were mere specs in their rear-view mirror at this point. Sure, the thugs had given chase, but he'd simply been too fast for them, even with Riven balanced precariously in one arm.

"The last time I did that," Talon's voice echoed between rhythmic huffs, "you disappeared on me."

Riven sighed, her sullen features hidden beneath a mass of wet, silvery tangles. The girl's face was flush with crimson-colored shame. "I'm… sorry. I just… I saw the light, and I couldn't resist taking a peek."

Talon could only stifle a snicker, slowing to a halt as he rounded another corner and ducked under an overhang. He could already tell this girl was going to be a handful, both literally and figuratively… perhaps more trouble than she was worth. And yet, without a second thought he'd gone looking for her when she had vanished back at the club. "It's fine," he whispered under his breath, a faint smirk forming at the edges of his lips. Slowly he knelt down to deposit her on the ground beside him.

"More importantly… what exactly… are you wearing?"

Fresh warmth flooded Riven's cheeks. For a moment there she had forgotten about her attire. As embarrassment settled in Riven stumbled back to the wall, using her arms as a half-hearted shield to try and cover up her body from his view.

"A… bunny… outfit."

"No, I see that. I meant…" Smirking he stared down at the girl even as she struggled to look somewhere else. His eyes traced along the curve of her wet, leather-bound hips and naked shoulders, the profile of her jawline and cute little nose as she absentmindedly bit down on her lower lip. "Never mind." He ran his hand lightly along the nape of his own neck, a tinge of color surging to his cheeks as well. "I… like it, actually. It suits you."

Riven's blush intensified_. It suits you._ Her hands stayed pinned to her shoulders, fingers clenched and thumbs rotating idly against her slender biceps. She could feel something fluttering in the pit of her stomach. "Really?"

Talon cocked his head at an angle, about to smile back at her when a cold shiver flashed down his spine. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted movement. Instinctively Talon wheeled about on his heels, one hand tugging Riven behind him while the other flexed against its sleeve, summoning a dagger to his grasp. Riven let out a yelp of surprise upon being shoved up against the wall. Talon had his back turned to her now, his gaze darting between the rooftops and the corridor. His palm was resting on her bare collarbone; she could feel the calluses on the pads of his fingers, the roughness of his skin against her own. "What is it?" Riven whispered to him as she followed his eyes down the alley, still hugging herself tightly. Talon's entire demeanor had changed in an instant. His body was tense and alert, the previous warmth all but drained from his features.

"Run."

The single syllable hit Riven with all the force of a brick. She hated that word so much. "W-why? What wrong?" Her heart began to pound again, her furtive glances alternating between the corridor and Talon's tense features. She could see nothing in the darkness, nothing save for a thin film of roiling mist dancing under whatever pale light managed to streak through from above. "Talon… what do you see?"

No response. He was too absorbed in his own thoughts now, all those years of carefully cultivated survival instincts kicking in at once. "No cover… too many angles to defend," he whispered in a low tone. "It's not safe here."

"I-I don't understand. Just tell me wh-"

_"Riven!"_ He turned around to face her now, those golden orbs of his smoldering in the misty twilight. Riven could only stare back at him, blurry eyed and shivering under the cold drizzle. Talon had never raised his voice with her before. Whatever he'd seen or heard, it must have been troubling him quite deeply. "There's no time." For a moment his gaze softened, the stress lines in his features fading. "Please… just run… as fast as you can. Don't look back."

Riven watched him in silence, her chest heaving against the wet leather clinging to it. She had never seen him like this, so agitated and on edge. It frightened her. "Talon…" she whispered softly, taking a few tentative steps back.

_"RUN!"_

His voice pierced through the last of her resolve like a volley of arrows, sending the girl scurrying away in a flurry of frustrated tears and mixed emotions.

Talon was alone once more.

He took in a deep breath, his brow narrowing as he shut his eyes. He turned back to the alleyway. There was no sound, no movement, nothing but the gentle pitter-patter of rain on cobblestones and rooftops. A thunderclap boomed somewhere off in the distance, little more than a dull roar to echo over the cavernous maw of the city. Slowly Talon opened his eyes, just as the mist seemed to part and shrink away like a smoky stage curtain. A pair of gaunt figures appeared before him – one female and the other male – each wrapped in the tattered remnants of dark cloth. Talon stiffened at their approached, his breathing becoming measured, calculated. The resemblance between the two figures was uncanny – sharp, angular features framed by nearly identical ashen tresses; tall frames with wide shoulders and slender hips. Each of their cloaks was pinned in the front by a small black brooch in the shape of a closed fist. There could be no mistake then; Talon knew these two. They were the legendary twin assassins of the Ebon Hand, one of the most dangerous and feared guilds in all of Noxus.

"Hello, Talon." The woman smiled at him, an empty gesture, seemingly devoid of any actual emotion behind it. "I am Kyla, and this is my brother Kyel. We come bearing a gift. A proposition, if you will." Her gaze shone bright in the rain, like two pools of cyan upon a backdrop of ebony cloth and ivory skin. She was pale beyond words, a block of living marble, both her and the man standing at her side. "Seems like you've made quite a name for yourself, haven't you?" Kyla took another step forward, her hands resting inside the pockets of her cloak. Her brother had yet to make a move, let alone open his eyes. He simply stood there like a statue, lips curved in seemingly tacit disapproval as the rain continued to wick down his long, feathery bangs. "But… when all is said and done, even a ghost needs a home, wouldn't you agree?" Her violet lips curved into a rather cruel smirk. "Our master has had his eye on you for quite some time now. He wishes to extend this invitation to you. An invitation to join-"

"Not interested." Talon cut her off in midsentence, folding his arms across his chest. His own lucent gaze rose to lock heavily with hers now, the only disruption in their psychic duel the occasional droplet of rain flickering off the points of each of their cowls.

Kyla snickered, barely able to contain her mirth. "Just to be clear, this is _not_ an offer you can refuse." The woman's hands appeared from beneath the folds of her cloak now, blackened knives peeking out between each of her loosely clenched digits. Her brother stirred as well; a pair of rapiers swung into view as he casually shifted his stance. "Surely you understand, hmm? It's just business, after all."

Talon exhaled softly, a shadow falling over his features. Their eyes broke contact as he uncrossed his arms to let them dangle at his sides. This wasn't the first time he'd been presented with such an ultimatum. It most certainly wouldn't be the last, either.

"How about… you go _fuck_ yourselves."

Two steps and Talon vanished, exploding into a pounce with knives trailing alongside each forearm in a reverse grip. Kyla barely had time to respond. Her smirk faded just a _tad _as the fang-like blades managed to nick her ample cleavage, the tiny cut painting a thin line of blood into the air. The faint crimson spray misted almost instantly, washed away without a trace under the driving downpour. Her brother seemed to be more prepared for the attack however. Kyel's eyes snapped open at the first sign of movement and he lashed out with a flick of his wrist towards Talon's exposed temples.

Talon could only grin in response.

In the blink of an eye he was off the ground, his sinewy frame sailing high above Kyel's strike in a catlike jump, blades askew. Time seemed to slow down for a moment as a bolt of lightning leapt from the dark skies above. Talon narrowed his gaze and his amber pupils dilated like the eyes of a jungle cat. He was at the apex of his jump with arms spread in cruciform, dagger in one hand and that jagged wrist blade blossoming over the other. An unavoidable counterattack; Noxian diplomacy at its finest.

_Almost._

From out of nowhere came a steady stream of knives, forcing Talon to cross his arms and parry in midair at the last possible second. His forward momentum all but vanished as the blades ricocheted in rapid succession off his wrist guards, ruining his strike and dropping him back to the floor. Seemingly acting on pure instinct now, Talon rolled to the right just as another barrage of throwing knives fanned out across the space he'd been occupying, leaving behind a trail of ringed blades half-embedded in the wet pavement. He ducked into a crouching stance and for a brief lapse there was no movement from either side... then Talon winced and doubled over; apparently one of the blades had found its mark. Slowly he reached up to dislodge an ebon knife from his shoulder, tossing it behind his back before rising to his full height once more.

"How disappointing," Kyla scoffed, a veritable pincushion of knives still tucked into each of her clenched fists. "At _this _rate it'll be over before you know it." Her grin faltered however, when three razor-thin cuts opened up along her cheek a split second later. She cocked her head over her shoulder to see a trio of Talon's own throwing knives freshly embedded in the wall behind her.

"Indeed." His response was curt, positively dripping with venom. The wicked grin plastered across his features however, told of another story altogether.

He was enjoying this.

Another bolt of lightning struck the ground and all three assassins vanished from sight, reappearing in a clash of cold steel, rubble and rain. Their blades would meet again and again, each impact rending the earth and spitting a shower of sparks into the night sky. Three bodies were moving as one now, weaving and poking, dodging, twisting – neither side could gain an advantage. Every so often a faint plume of scarlet would erupt against the downpour, the only indication that a glancing blow had been scored. Such successes were few and far between, at least at first anyway. As the fight wore on Talon's strength began to fade, the fresh tatters in his clothing welling up with tiny fonts of watery blood. His movements were becoming sluggish and somewhat lazy, vision blurring. Something wasn't right…

_Poison._

He grit his teeth, brow narrowing. It had to be poison. The dagger that had struck him in the shoulder earlier must have been dipped in something... probably some kind of neurotoxin, and a potent one at that. He could almost feel the venom coursing through his veins, every fiber in his muscles growing tight and unresponsive to the commands his mind was screaming at them to perform.

"What's the matter, hmm? Feeling a little… foggy?" Kyla snickered as her brother's rapiers managed to pierce through Talon's weakened defenses. Talon staggered back as the blades sank into his ribs, rotating with the momentum of the strike before lashing out with his own blade in response. The sudden riposte caught Kyel off guard; one of his swords went sailing out of his grasp only to clatter against the far wall. The man simply grunted though, taking his remaining rapier and flicking it clean of Talon's blood in one smooth motion.

"Last chance," Kyla dusted off her knee-high boots as she spoke, seemingly unconcerned with how the events were unfolding before them. "Embrace us… or embrace your mortality." Her brother had moved within striking distance of Talon's crumpled form now, his rapier poised to deliver a final parting thrust.

There was another long pause, a moment of silence with nothing but the rain to beat out a hollow rhythm upon the crown of the city. Talon's breathing came in slow, ragged pulses, his breath visible as an effervescing cloud of steam. Slowly his lips curved into a smirk, blood trickling down his chin.

"And I… thought I told you… to go _fuck_… yourselves."

Kyla glowered at him, contempt and irritation finally settling in. "Such a waste."

The sound of steel rending flesh and bone pierced Talon's ears a moment later, but for some reason he felt no pain. No sharp stab, no cutting throb, nothing. Instead, he saw Kyel staring down at him with a vacant gaze, the man's features twisted in agony at the sight of a blade – his own blade, the one that Talon had disarmed – sprouting from a gaping wound in his abdomen. Behind him stood the culprit: a silver-haired little bunny rabbit clad in wet leather and tattered lace.

_Riven…_

She had a look of ferocity the likes of which Talon had never seen before, her tiny hands wrapped around the hilt of the rapier she had buried in the man's back. She had caught Kyel completely off guard, charging headlong into the fray with little regard for her own safety, her own life. Talon watched her breast rise and fall rhythmically, her anger bubbling to the surface as she drove the sword to its hilt through Kyel's stomach. It was strange, but for some unfathomable reason, in that moment Talon was reminded of the ocean. The ocean had such a calm and serene exterior, so lovely… but the currents were always deceptively strong underneath, and at times the ocean was capable of so much destruction. Right now Riven's crashing waves had turned the tide of this fight, and that was all the opening Talon needed.

With one final surge he growled his defiance, vanishing in a blur of fading ebon lines only to reappear right behind Kyla. His blades sunk into her shoulders like a pair of scissors a moment later, bisecting her at the spine and nearly lopping her head clean off. She didn't even have time to scream.

The two corpses slumped to their knees, pools of blood forming beneath their shadows. An exhausted Talon followed suit shortly thereafter, only to have his fall broken by Riven's embrace. The back of his head slumped against her as she dropped to her own knees, hugging his battered body to her chest.

"Why… didn't you run?" He looked up at her with a faint smirk, blood trickling freely from the corner of his mouth. Riven could only smile back at him, shaking her head softly. Gone was that sanguine ferocity in her eyes, that spark replaced with a familiar wavering scarlet hue. She reached down to brush a few stray strands of chestnut brown from his eyes. How soft his hair was, even in the rain…

"I'm not running anymore."

Talon's mind grew numb as he passed in and out of consciousness. "Is that so…" He could still feel her body pressed against his, feel her tears trailing down her chin to splash on his forehead… or perhaps… that was just the rain? _Well… whatever._ He reached up with trembling fingers to try and touch her face, but his strength would only take him halfway. Instead the girl raised her own hands and clasped them around his. _Such small hands she had… such tiny, slender fingers._ Talon's eyes began to close slowly, the world fading from view.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Sorry for the sporadic updates. I'm actually finishing up my last semester of college, but hopefully things will settle down soon. A big thank you again to all my readers, I hope you're enjoying this story as much as I am._


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